


baby, why don't you figure my heart out?

by glittercake



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Natasha Romanov Lives, cute boyfriends, proposal fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 19:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19730725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittercake/pseuds/glittercake
Summary: Sam writes a speech:...I want you to know that even though you drive me crazy, it's the kind of crazy I want to be for the rest of my life. Because I am the happiest when I'm with you. There's a part of my soul that has anchored deep within yours. We fit together. We belong. I want to make that permanent. (Dramatic Pause) Marry me?But it doesn't quite go that way.





	baby, why don't you figure my heart out?

Sam decides, with unwavering certainty, that he wants to marry Bucky Barnes and it happens like this:

1.

The very first time the thought occurs to him is post-mission, he's hobbling into the apartment he shares with Bucky. 

Everything hurts, his clothes are soggy and filthy and probably splattered with alien remains. He shrugs off his Kevlar, tosses it aside, strips off all the layers of padding and whatnot until he's standing only in the thermal tights.

"Yo. Babycakes. I'm home." He calls out to the seemingly empty apartment while he checks the mail. Bucky's around somewhere because Sam smells divine flavors wafting through the air. 

When the love of his life finally comes out of the kitchen, he's also wearing tights and one of Sam's old Air Force sweaters. 

Sam braces himself. His pulsing lip and throbbing eye and burning, bleeding nose. He doesn't even want to know what he looks like.

"Oh my god. What did you... you said this was a _conference call!?"_ Bucky comes rushing over, eyes wide. 

"It was—ow!—we got side missioned."

That's the truth. One minute you're sitting at a boardroom table discussing Avenger affairs with Secretary what's his face, and the next you're launched into the next room via exploding extraterrestrial microbots. He fucking misses the Stark compound.

Bucky is not taking it well, "You're bleeding!! From your _ear!!!"_ He reaches up to turn Sam's head sideways.

"No, I'm not! That's probably glass shards stuck _behind_ my ear." and well, that doesn't sound any better now that he says it out loud. 

"Jesus jaywalking Christ, Sam. Sit here." Bucky throws his hands up, and grabs Sam's elbow, leads him over to the couch.

He sits, melts into the soft cushions and lets his tired body rest a bit while Bucky runs off to the bathroom to collect the first aid kit.

"What's for dinner?" He asks tiredly, running a hand over his bare ribs where he's sure there are bruises, and probably something cracked.

"What...what's for dinner?!? Are you serious right now, pal? You're bleeding from seventy fuckin' different…"

There's a hasty rummaging in the bathroom that comes to an abrupt halt. Bucky's head pops out past the door frame, looking at Sam with that incredulous scowl on his face.

"Where's the goddamn gauze??"

Sam chuckles quietly to himself. Bucky is ridiculous and adorable and a colossal pain in the ass that Sam loves with his entire heart, right down to the very tip. "Bottom cabinet. Left side."

Bucky still mumbles off to himself, drops a few things, walks into the cabinet he didn't close, curses words Sam's never heard before and finally comes to join him. He sits down beside Sam. "Fuckin' _what's for dinner_ and half your ass is blown off."

Sam drops his head back against the couch, looks at Bucky's pretty mouth twisted with concern as he dabs a cotton ball over the cut on Sam's cheekbone, "You're being dramatic, baby." 

He loves the way Bucky's eyebrows shoot up, "Am I though?? Fuck me. Look at this. Christ."

"You pray with that nasty mouth?" Sam can't help but laugh.

"Ain't gonna be doing anything with this mouth if you keep—jeez look at your lip, dollface." He looks personally offended that Sam's lip is busted up. "Come on!" Bucky groans and starts cleaning that too, it stings, but it doesn't matter much when Sam gets to look at Bucky like this, taking care of him, loving on him so hard it makes him angry. This idiot.

"My lip's just fine, baby." He tells Bucky, even if it's not. Everything else is just perfect. It's then that Sam decides that he wants to marry James Buchanan Barnes.

His head tips sideways in fondness, and he knows he's probably got that love-struck puppy look on his face because Bucky snorts, fights a grin.

Bucky shoves his thigh, "Quit smilin'!!! You're making it bleed."

"Quit being adorable then." 

Bucky leans forward and kisses his cheek. Sam is so fucking mushy inside it's absurd. James Wilson-Barnes. Hm. He likes the sound of that.

He reigns in his sappy heart and lets Bucky finish his nurse duties. He wraps Sam's ribs up tightly and bandages his knuckles, rubs ointment on his cuts and bruises. He seals it all with a kiss to Sam's forehead that Sam still feels after he pulls away.

"Fuckin' aliens. You okay, doll? Does it hurt anymore?" he asks cupping Sam's jaw so careful and soft like he's holding crystals, like he's got diamonds cradled in his hands

"Nah. Not anymore. Come here."

Bucky curls into Sam, tucking himself under Sam's arm like he always does. His body is warm and solid against Sam's, and his hair smells like that coconut oil Sam got him.

"Love you," Sam whispers into Bucky's hair and kisses the spot. Bucky hums, "You love me too, you know it." 

"You wanna be a big talker or do you want dinner and a blow job?"

"I want a shower then a blowjob while I eat. A nice and slow one."

"Nah, I'll suck you off all mean and quick. Make you choke." Bucky hugs Sam around the middle before getting up and heading back to the kitchen. Sam laughs, watching him leave. "And yes, I love you Sam Wilson. Jesus. You'll be the death of me. Stop getting fuckin' hurt." He shouts over his shoulder.

Yup, Sam's going to marry him so hard.

* * *

2.

Now that he's decided what he wants, the trouble is coming up with the most opportune moment to ask Bucky the biggest question of their lives probably.

The first time he considers blurting it out is when he wakes up one Sunday morning alone in their bed. Sunlight streams in through the curtains and Bucky's spot next to him is still warm, the room is bathed in sweet silence except for the sound of Bucky singing Marvin Gaye in the bathroom.

It's quite dramatic, he's got a great voice for it, all raspy and deep, but he takes the high notes pretty fucking high which makes it comical.

_"There's nothing wrong with me lovin' yooooou."_ Bucky sings, and Sam snorts. He gets up to take a look, he bets it's priceless. 

Sam listens to _"Let's get it on ooooh oohhhh baby"_ as he walks across the room. And now Bucky's really getting into it, Sam can't wipe the smile from his face at the sound, even more so when he leans against the door, watching.

Bucky's got a black towel around his waist, dripping wet from the shower, his long hair spiraling down his shoulders. Best of all: he's using a deodorant stick as a microphone, swaying in front of the mirror. He sees Sam in the reflection and grins, wiggles his ass then switches over to a different song altogether.

Sam comes up behind him and slides his hands around Bucky's waist, rests his chin on his shoulder.

Bucky carries on singing, and Sam thinks he could do it right now, he could just ask him in this steamed up bathroom with their bodies pressed together like this, Marvin does set up a pretty romantic atmosphere even if it's sung by a white boy who trips on the high notes.

But he probably needs a ring, he thinks. Probably needs to put in a little more effort than that. He's not chickening out. He's not. He just… wants to do it right. What's he gonna say anyway? Just "marry me,"? Is that how it goes?

"If my singing is making you frown like that I'll stop, jeez Louise," Bucky says, and Sam checks himself in the mirror, realizes he looks grossly perplexed.

He pulls himself together, "Nah, baby, you're doing great. I'm only half deaf now… Hey, want me to braid your hair?" he diverts quickly because he knows there's no way Bucky will say no to a hair job.

"Yass. Okay, let me get dressed."

Sam smiles and smacks Bucky's ass as he backs away, "Sure thing babycakes. And don't say jeez Louise, you sound like a hundred-year-old."

"I _am_ a hundred-year-old."

"Man, that's really gross."

He loves the way Bucky stares at him when he laughs. He loves the way they laugh together. He loves making Bucky laugh. 

Sam spends the rest of the morning braiding Bucky's hair, this way then that, undoing and redoing while they watch rookie chefs get roasted by Gordon Ramsey.

Sam's not really paying attention. He's trying to figure out a speech, wonders if it's best done spontaneously and unplanned or devised and emotional. He thinks he'll try for spontaneous first… whenever that opportunity may arise. 

_ Will you marry me? _

_ Wanna be husbands? _

_ Hey, I lost my last name can I have yours? _

He snorts out loud at that last one and Bucky turns to glare at him, "What the hell?" 

"Nothing. Now stop moving around."

But it's not nothing. It's huge.

* * *

3.

Turns out the next time Sam's heart brims with the sudden urge to propose he's buried balls deep in Bucky's ass and Bucky, well. He's fucking back on Sam's dick, rolling like waves in the damn ocean, Sam didn't even know bodies could move this way.

Sam is fucking mesmerized watching him go, doesn't even try holding him down to bang his brains out like he promised before they started this. Bucky's doing fucking great all by himself, and Sam feels like his mind's about to implode with how good this feels, how good Bucky looks like this.

"Baby," he shivers out, trying to guide Bucky's hips into a more languid rhythm so he won't lose it too soon, "You gotta slow it the fuck down."

Bucky just grins over his shoulder, makes his back muscles ripple and his ass does that clenching thing that makes Sam's world go all dizzy around him. "Aim of the game doll, come on. Go for it."

Christ, that fucking voice, his accent, his everything. "Oh fuck… Okay, just … god, just like that, B… just like that."

Bucky keeps going, fucking it back without reprieve and Sam lets it happen, feels that warm, numb wave of pure goodness spread from the inside out until he shoots off. Bucky moans, Sam moans, he digs his nails into Bucky's ass and squeezes until he's ridden it out.

"Stay hard for me, doll. Come on. I ain't done."

"I know, baby." Sam's kind of breathless. "I know. I got you." He tugs Bucky's legs out from under him, flips him over, so they're face to face, then presses his mouth open against Bucky's and sinks into him again.

Staying hard ain't an issue after all apparently, he gets right back into it, and Bucky hikes his thighs up around Sam's middle. Their noses brush from the way Sam starts moving and Bucky's breathing into his mouth like that's his oxygen source, leaving long trails of scratches down his back.

"Yeah, fuck. Harder." Bucky urges, gives Sam a lick over the lips and it spurs him on. He gets hold of Bucky's ass lifts his hips up with one hand and makes good on his promise of screwing him into the mattress.

Bucky appreciates the fuck out of it the way he starts whining like a broken record, double time when Sam reaches down and starts jerking him off.

"Fuck—" Bucky blinks up at him, in awe "Doll… baby, holy shit, you're so good. That's so good, don't stop!"

Sam's heart swells thick behind his ribs at the look on Bucky's face, that sweet, endearing, helpless, totally-at-Sam's-mercy look he's got swirling behind those baby blues. "Jesus, I love you. I goddam love you—ah fuck! Fuck!"

"Sam!" Bucky shouts and starts arching up, groaning a deep sound from way back in his throat, "Sam..."

"Baby…" Sam cries out, "Buck… baby… I wanna ma—" ... _marry you…_ but his orgasm hits him like a freight train before he gets to the critical part of that sentence, rendering his mind stupid and his mouth slack with pleasure. Couldn't even form a cohesive thought if he tried right now.

Bucky, breathing fast and sprawled out on the bed when Sam rolls off him, says, "You wanna what?"

"Ngh…" Sam grumbles and his eyes flutter shut.

Bucky laughs, "Niiice."

Damn it all.

* * *

4.

Sam buys a ring. With shaky hands and a pounding heart he pays for the black and platinum band and matching chain, so Bucky can wear it around his neck given the metal fingers and all.

On the inside the words "Until days end." are engraved, and he thinks that's pretty fucking romantic.

The purchase is made the morning before they leave for Sam's annual family gathering, and he takes the ring with him. It burns a hole right through his pocket and sears his skin, so he shoves the box in the bottom of his suitcase.

"What's that?" Bucky asks when he comes into the room at just the wrong moment and sees Sam stuff it under some jeans.

"Uh." He scratches his neck, "Gift for my sister."

Bucky quirks up a brow, "Okay…" 

Sam clears his throat, "You ready to go?"

Thankfully Bucky gets distracted by the thin white T-shirt Sam's wearing and comes over, lazily plastering his lips to the back of Sam's neck, slips both hands around his waist. 

"Uh huh. In a moment." murmurs Bucky and maybe they mess around a little before they depart, maybe they mess around so much they both need another shower afterward.

Now, Sam's family is big, it gets overwhelming even for him at times, and so he always spares some concern for Bucky and his sensitivity to large groups. But Bucky, having only been here for the third time, finds solace in hanging out with the kids under the big willow tree. 

Sam's watching Bucky from the kitchen window, peeling potatoes that he somehow got roped into while looking for a bottle opener. He doesn't mind, the view's pretty great from here.

"Care to tell me what that ridiculous look on your face is for?" his sister says beside him.

"What? A man can't just gaze out a window for no reason?"

Sarah stares at him and blinks a few times deliberately slow, "Oh, I see a reason alright. And it has a man bun and skinny jeans on. You don't like what you see out there?"

Sam sighs because he's kind of helplessly in love and it's obvious, "I like it. I like it so much."

"Hmm." Sarah hums and hands him a beer. "So… you gonna do something about it or what?"

He looks at her for a moment, "I'm trying alright."

The kids are teaching Bucky the slide, he's pretty good at it. Sam stands watching in awe at Bucky crawling out of his shell, a genuine smile on his face instead of the stilted, forced one he conjures up around people on any other day. 

Sam feels his own face light up and knows what people mean when they talk about being 'warm and fuzzy' inside. His heart is a nest of cashmere blankets and plushies. It's the most ridiculous thing, but he loves being this happy.

"Go try a little harder." Sarah nudges him to go join the fun outside and takes over potato peeling duty for a while.

Sam joins the slide smoothly beside Bucky. He gets a bright grin for it that makes his heart beat a little off tune.

He says, "Doing good, baby." And Bucky's face lights up like fireworks in the night sky.

"Come here," Bucky calls out above the music and pulls Sam up behind him, and they continue dancing pressed close, Sam's hands on Bucky's hips and lips nuzzled behind his ear.

He ignores the way his family around them cheer and whistle, they're ridiculous, but he's smiling anyway.

Later that night, after eating way too much and helping with clean up, most of the guests have gone home and his sister's tucking the kids into bed.

Sam and Bucky are outside lazing in the hammock that Bucky assured him they could both fit into, and he wasn't wrong- provided they don't move an inch and just lie stock still. The night air is warm, and the smell of simmering firewood drifts along with the breeze, the stars are hanging all pretty up above, and Bucky's hand is curled tight in Sam's.

"Hey," Sam says, almost a whisper, after a long while of silence, "You ever think about the future? Like where all of this is going?"

Bucky turns his head slowly, so they don't flip over and face plant, "You mean us?"

"Yeah. Everything." Says Sam, and he starts to tremble because this could be it. All he needs to do is say it, the ring is upstairs, but he could ask him now, then they'll head upstairs and… do stuff while Bucky wears his new ring…

"I want to start a fish farm with you." Bucky deadpans.

Sam snorts a little too loud, his head jerks to Bucky and the hammock gives a dangerous wobble, "Man, what the hell?!?"

Bucky laughs too, "What!? I wanna start a goddamn fish farm!"

Sam starts shaking with laughter, "You ain't gonna follow that up with some fucking context, huh? Just straight up fish farming?"

The hammock is starting to sway.

Bucky turns on his side to face Sam, and murmurs very low in Sam's ear, "Ain't nothing straight here, dollface."

And because they can't fucking contain themselves, they end up feverishly making out and Sam's gripping a handful of Bucky's ass and Bucky's feeling up Sam's biceps against their better judgment.

Just then Sarah opens the backdoor, "I know y'all weren't about to get fresh out on my lawn Samuel Thomas Wilson!"

As expected, the hammock finally flips over and deposits them onto the grass, awkwardly splayed on top of one another.

They're both laughing, Sam's cheeks hurt from it as he looks down at Bucky who is staring at him in wonderment as if Sam's the only thing he's ever seen.

"Nah. Not on your lawn." Sam calls out to Sarah, "Not tonight."

He's not only talking about heated necking sessions in his sister's backyard.

* * *

5\. 

Everything else has failed, so Sam writes a speech:

> _ I've been meaning to ask you this for a while, baby. Been meaning to tell you how your smile looks like sunrise on a misty mountain and how lucky I am to wake up to it every day. I want you to know that even though you drive me crazy, it's the kind of crazy I want to be for the rest of my life. Because I am the happiest when I'm with you. There's a part of my soul that has anchored deep within yours. We fit together. We belong. I want to make that permanent. (Dramatic Pause) Marry me? _

He's got the ring in his pocket and the little paper with his love declaration folded up with it. He's booked dinner at a fancy restaurant like he had initially planned. It's right beside the river, flickering candles, and tiki torches and all that shit that makes it the ultimate romantic setting.

He hasn't given much thought about how he's going to do this… 

Is he gonna have to go down on his knee in front of all these people??? Are they all going to hear these mushy things he has written down??

_ Oh god. _

He's not putting the ring in the champaign because Bucky will sure as shit swallow it. And Sam doesn't need anything else messing this up. He can do that all by himself, thanks. But he's having fucking champaign alright? He's having plenty of goddamn bubbly though.

Sam, for a moment, thinks about just throwing the fucking ring and speech at Bucky with Yes/No blocks and a pen, and running away.

He calls the waiter over for a shot while Bucky excuses himself to the restroom. 

"What's this?"

"Tequila, sir."

"God. Okay. Another one."

The waiter obliges, and by the time Bucky returns from the restroom Sam's four shots strong and still Stressing The Fuck Out.

"Did I tell you how fucking good you look in a suit, doll?" Bucky sits down, spreads the napkin over his lap.

"Only seven times," Sam grumbles, still kind of lost in thought.

Bucky kicks his ankle under the table, "What's up with you?"

"Hm?? Nothing! Nothing, you gotta fucking try this Tequila, man." Sam rambles off and calls the waiter again. Three shots each and he chases it down with champaign that is promptly refilled. He fucking loves this place.

Sam giggles because Bucky doesn't quite get the concept of Tequila and makes the cutest face Sam's ever seen. There's a thing on the menu called a Jack Hammer, so he orders them both one of those. It's a tall, yellow, delicious thing that makes Sam's cheeks feel hot and his head spin when he moves.

Bucky is obviously unaffected, just sits there with his perfect face and chuckles at Sam, running his foot up and down Sam's leg, which is also lovely and warm. 

There's now a plate of bread rolls in front of Sam and Bucky's slanted in his chair like a stupid angel or something, Sam thinks and giggles again.

"You havin' fun?" Bucky looks up at Sam with that cute little up curl to his lip.

"Mhm. You take _excellent_ care of me, baby." Sam slurs, chin resting in his hand as he watches Bucky butter a bun for him.

"Yeah, come on, take a sip of water and eat this." Bucky slides over a glass and hands him the bread. Sam blinks at him. "You're ridiculous." He says with a brow arched up, but he laughs, and Sam fucking loves that sound.

Needless to say, Sam doesn't pop the question that night either. Bucky gracefully escorts him home and tucks him in, suit and all, a bread roll still clutched in his hand.

"I'm putting a bucket next to the bed, in case." says Bucky and pats Sam's ass, "Goodnight, sweetheart." and kisses his temple.

"Mmkay… hey… Bubby…"

"Yeah?"

"You," he starts, waves a hand around airily, "Like sunrise on a mountain. Crazy..."

"You're adorable, Wilson. Shh now. Sleep."

And Sam does. More like passes out while unceremoniously cuddling a piece of bread.

* * *

+1. 

Sam's not in the fucking mood. He's tired, and it is way too early for asshole mobsters to try and hold the city hostage, plus him and Bucky have been in each other's hair all morning.

It's a full-on fight by the time Sam and the team get there. Sam takes out two guys with the shield right off the bat, takes one for a quick flight just for fun and drops him for Parker to catch.

"Woah!!! Why so grumpy, Cap? We're—shit!!!" Parker almost slips off a 20-story building, "We're winning!"

"I ain't got no underwear on today," Sam says flatly while he shoots out someone's knee cap and STRIKE apprehends the guy. "Wanna know why?!"

"America's ass of freedom?" Natasha quips and dissolves a perp's nose with her elbow.

"Because," Sam carries on irritated, "My sweet little butterbean Barnes didn't put no damn washing powder in the machine. So I don't have any clean briefs."

Down below, Bucky throws a dude into the side of a car with his metal arm. It's really hot, but that's not the point. "Well," growls Bucky, "my tiny flying drumstick if you had just gotten the right brand—" he pauses to slam two assholes' faces together.

Parker comes in, confused, "Am I missing something?"

"When they're mad at each other, they use foody pet names." says Nat, "Don't ask."

"Sounds like they're married or something." Parker chuckles to himself, and Sam feels like hurling a brick at him.

"NAH." Sam says perhaps a little too enthusiastically and sarcastically coated, "See if we were married _or something_ I'd be able to divorce his ass. If we were married, I'd probably be doing the washing since I wouldn't let my baby pudding pop worry about that shit." he thinks he's on a damn roll. "If we were _married—_ "

Until Bucky interrupts him. 

"Yeah okay, so marry me then!!" 

"Huh?" Sam says at first into the comms. He can see Bucky standing below with his gun perched for a shot, squinting into the sun. "Wait, hold up hold up hold up!!!" He then calls out loud. 

To his surprise, gunfire seizes, and even the cops and bad guys turn to look at them. The street has fallen silent save for everyone breathing harsh and fast. 

"WHAT!?" Sam shouts down to Bucky.

Bucky, looking up at him, shrugs, "I said, marry me then!" He yells back at Sam. 

Sam snorts incredulously. For fucking real?! After all his planning?? "Man, you serious right now?"

Everyone stares at them, Nat with a devilish quirk to her mouth, holding two pistols to a dude's forehead. 

"Yeah, pal. Why not?" Bucky cocks his rifle and beams a bright one at Sam. His hair's burnt honey in the sunlight and Sam's about to pass the fuck out from giddiness. 

And maybe this wasn't how he planned it, perhaps he's been fretting about it too much. It doesn't really matter how they declare their love, he realizes. Whether it's in front of a bodega downtown surrounded by mob assholes or at a five-star joint beside a lake. Bucky loves him all the same, any which way you look at it. 

"Alright. Okay, yeah. I'll fucking marry you." He grins at his guy, his only guy, the one who makes his heart do unhealthy amounts of beating. His voice goes a little shaky, but no one notices. 

Bucky's smile is out of this world as he salutes Sam.

"Uhm. Like, right now??" Peter croaks as a perp hangs suspended by spider webs off the roof.

"First take down these motherfuckers, then get hitched," Sam says then swoops down, and the fight commences at once, bullets ripping through the air and cracking into cement. "We'll have shawarmas after."


End file.
